


Walking With Lions

by itsacoup



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece & Rome, Alternate Universe - Magic, Anal Fingering, Developing Relationship, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 18:25:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10444272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsacoup/pseuds/itsacoup
Summary: The coliseum erupts again in a cheer for death as Evgeni leans forward and props his chin upon his fist, staring intently at the bestiarius. He does not falter or tremble as the crowd roars. The curious half-smirk still sits on his face, as if his string has not been readied by the Fates to be clipped. He does not flinch as the cages open-- he does not flinch as the lions gather themselves, powerful legs sinking to strike, claws digging into wood to gain purchase, eyes trained on his unmoving form-- he does not flinch as the lions leap--Ruling the Empire has grown dull for Imperator Evgeni-- and then he meets Sidney.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Incident #2903 of me playing myself by listening to new music and thinking I won’t have Feelings about it if I think about hockey at the same time. JOKE’S ON ME. This particular one can be blamed on a drive home and Codeko’s [Walking With Lions](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o0tMvev3k3Q). _Technically_ , this is a Humility remix, but it’s very loosely connected and therefore definitely not required reading. It’s limited to a number of fun, sneaky references/inversions that Humility fans will enjoy!
> 
> As always, a hundred million thanks to my lovely betas, stalwart and true, onlylonelyglory and squidbittles!
> 
> CW: period-typical violence (coliseum fights, executions, etc) in mildly explicit detail referencing blood.

_Five years_ , Evgeni muses as he stares out into the early morning sun dripping down the tiers of seating and across the dusty arena of the coliseum. Five years of reign as of today, five years of wrenching power back from the senators and driving the Empire forward, five years of resounding success. Today, the empire rises up to celebrate those five years, and Evgeni is _bored._ There is no challenge anymore and nothing to capture his attention like before-- even the promise of a day of gladiatorial amusements does little to stir Evgeni’s blood.

The coliseum is awash with the voices of the masses as the sun inches higher in the sky, the air growing thick and heavy with heat as the morning breeze fades away. The Imperial Pavilion is covered, of course, but that is no longer enough. Evgeni waves a lazy hand at a slave standing attentively to his left, who immediately begins waving a broad, leaf-shaped fan to stir the air over Evgeni’s skin.

The Imperial Bell tolls; a quiet falls over the arena. Clemens Zetterberg steps forward to the podium of the Imperial Pavilion and shouts, “Hail His Imperial Majesty, Imperator Evgeni, Venerated and Victorious!” The crowd cheers, a steady chant of _Hail!_ breaking out, before Clemens Zetterberg raises his hand and quiet again falls in a veil over the coliseum. “We have flourished under five years of his magnificent reign. Today, we celebrate anew his victories, his wisdom, and an even greater future under his banner!”

The leader of the festivities gestures into the silence that follows, and two trap doors slide open on opposite ends of the arena floor, revealing one cage of tigers and another of ostriches. A murmur of excitement flickers through the crowd. “We honor him by battle, just as he has honored the Empire through his campaigns. First, the battle of nature!” A wild cheer tears through the crowd, already staring with bloodthirsty eyes at the pacing tiger and frantic, fluttering ostriches. “Next, the battle of man against nature!” Another, greater cheer. “And finally, as the Imperator has pitted himself against his enemies, the gladiators will battle, until one emerges victorious, and submits his victory to the Empire and His Imperial Majesty!” The crowd erupts, the Imperial Bell tolling over the shouts and cheers, and the noise only swells as the ostriches are let loose.

Evgeni watches, disinterested, as the tiger makes quick work of the ostriches. There was never much thrill in the base instincts of animals, and not even the copper tang of blood drifting past his nose arouses the slightest excitement. Death is easy. The battlefields are ripe with it, a spoiled fruit, and the taste of success it comes with dies quickly in the mouth, dissolving into bitter ash.

The morning passes with supplicants distracting Evgeni from the slaughter below. This, too, bores Evgeni. _May I increase my taxes another percent, to enrich the storehouses of the Empire_ , one Senator asks. The only coffers he aims to enrich are his own, based on his dismal tithes, and Evgeni dismisses him with a wave. _May I have the Emperor’s blessing to join the House of Subban and Price together,_ another asks. They were once warring families, and even now they fight badly enough in the Senate to nearly require moving to an arena, so Evgeni gives a quick blessing. It’s a paltry distraction, but sufficient to pass a few hours of the morning.

The sun hangs high and burning in the sky as the final battle finishes, a rout of antelope attempting to survive against two lions and failing. The crowd cheers long and loud as the lions are caged and the carcasses are cleared from the floor. Evgeni cannot look away from the lions. Muzzles bloodied, claws leaving red streaks in the dirt, they go back to imprisonment, lashing out even as they are herded by the attendants standing far above. Evgeni feels just the same: a warrior streaked in blood and victory but caught and limited by the needs of others, furious potential chained to the meaningless quarrels of the council room. The thought is captivating, and he muses on it rather than paying attention to the activity in the arena, the final screams of the damned and executed echoing over the shuffle of scenery.

The intermission ends with those sentenced to death by beast leaving their lives in the dust, and the next stage begins: bestiarii, the gladiators of beasts. Evgeni’s stomach rumbles, so he wastes an hour or two meandering through the food set out about the box, watching with sharp eyes at the ebb and flow of gossip around him as he moves. The senators play their games to their best ability, heaping praise and adulation towards Evgeni, but he knows better than to trust the surface, because the court is full of deep waters. Today there is discontent in those depths. Lord Hall’s son died on the northern front last week, first and only born of the house’s direct line. He looks to start a faction, and today Evgeni witnesses the first steps of a delicate dance to seduce allies. Other lords murmur, eyes darting in fear and mouths clamming shut at the slightest provocation, about the second son of a Hundred House that will be executed during the final intermission today. _Who is next?_ they ask not with words but slumped shoulders. _How do we survive under such flagrant disregard of the way of the world?_ Now is not the time to act on any of it, so Evgeni settles under the water, a crocodile waiting for the current of his prey to brush against his jaws, until-- snap!

Evgeni returns to his throne in time for the last battle of the bestiarii. The cages that rise reveal the lions from earlier, and Evgeni’s heart pounds. His limbs shiver with excitement-- a rare feeling, these days-- as the lions pace in their cage, prepared to bring this bestiarius to the fate of all the others today: death.

The man that strides forth from the gladiator’s entrance is not a rugged, fearful specimen, as bestiarii so often are. He walks broad-shouldered and loose-limbed, each step a confident motion as he raises his chin proudly at the filled coliseum. His features are striking, set upon a face that looks chiseled of the finest stone. He wears slim leather armor-- no real protection against the natural weapons of beasts-- and it reveals a pleasing shape, not of willowy boyishness but solid, strong maleness. He would be a fine specimen amongst Evgeni’s pleasure slaves, and his hand is raised for the leader of the festivities before the thought is even complete.

“Yes, Your Imperial Majesty?” the man asks to the floor, bent in a deep bow.

Evgeni continues to stare at the bestiarius, his confidence before the lion cages, the curious tilt to his lips. He would be a fine attendant, that is true, but-- now Evgeni wishes to know what the bestiarius knows about the battle to come. From where arises the smile? There is no threat of suicide, no screaming invective, just calm-- quiet-- confidence. “Never mind,” he tells the master of festivities, and the man scurries away.

The coliseum erupts again in a cheer for death as Evgeni leans forward and props his chin upon his fist, staring intently at the bestiarius. He does not falter or tremble as the crowd roars. The curious half-smirk still sits on his face, as if his string has not been readied by the Fates to be clipped. He does not flinch as the cages open-- he does not flinch as the lions gather themselves, powerful legs sinking to strike, claws digging into wood to gain purchase, eyes trained on his unmoving form-- he does not flinch as the lions leap--

The lions land before the man, his hands outstretched with palms facing down, and cower into the ground. A perfect silence falls over the coliseum, and Evgeni can feel that his jaw has dropped open, like so many in the crowd. It is no trick or illusion; the beasts are docile under the bestiarius’ regard, not caught in a moment of madness but truly under the man’s spell.

The bestiarius gestures, turning his back to the lions, and they fall in at his heels like obedient guardsmen. He strides confidently towards the edge of the arena, the crowd before him silent in terror as those behind whisper, and paces along the wall. The silence follows him, as if a single sound could break the thrall of the lions. The unearthly quiet echoes through a thousand throats as he comes to a stop before the Imperial Pavilion.

“Have I not won?” The bestiarius asks with a high and melodious voice. The lions sit behind him, and all three of their fierce gazes are trained upon Evgeni. Chills crawl up his bones in response, three pairs of golden-hazel eyes locked on his own, death lurking assuredly in the depths of the color. “Will you not take your ruling upon this battle, Imperator?”

Evgeni raises his hand, forming a fist with the thumb outstretched. There is only one answer, but his muscles move slowly as he twists the thumb to point at the sky. Noise returns to the arena in a great, rushing breath, the crowd exploding into a roar of confusion and disbelief.

Evgeni stands, waving at his attendants, and the Imperial Bell tolls in great, shivering peals until the crowd settles. The bestiarius still has not moved, he nor the lions startled by the bell, still watching Evgeni as a hawk watches a mouse. There is something too fierce and too beautiful about him to condemn him to death, and Evgeni must return to his initial thought. “A fine specimen like you would do well among my concubines," Evgeni says. Directness has always served him well.

The bestiarius looks at Evgeni, and his gaze grows even more intent than the stares of the lions and as chilled as mountain ice around the edges. “It is hardly a wonder that you keep concubines, if that is your dance of seduction,” he says with a voice as cold as his eyes. “I have never seen such a pitiful attempt from man or beast to attract another."

Evgeni’s guards lift their blades, ready to leap to the arena floor and kill him for his insolence, but Evgeni _laughs_. The guards hesitate, sword-points dropping as they turn their heads to stare at him, and Evgeni waves them off. "Fine, you would be wasted amongst them," Evgeni says. "What do you want, little lord of the lions? Bow your head to your emperor, and you will be given whatever you desire."

"The only emperor I acknowledge is nature," the bestiarius says. "The world is turning against you, emperor. If you are wise, you will listen to me and choose your change, rather than being forced into it."

“I accept,” Evgeni says. The bestiarius extends his hand upward towards the box, and Evgeni stares blankly at it for a moment before understanding. He pushes through his guards, sitting on the edge of the wall and staring down the intimidating twelve feet to the arena. A curtain bellows in the breeze next to him, and he tears it down, knotting it around an ornament and using it to slide down, jumping the final feet. Evgeni takes Sidney’s hand, every inch of skin crawling under the attentions of the lions, and he tries not to shudder at the hot, meaty breath that drifts across his face. “Who are you?” Evgeni asks.

The bestiarius turns them, still linked by their hands, towards the center of the arena. A lion settles to Evgeni’s left, the other to the bestiarius’ right, as the bestiarius raises their clasped hands. “I am Sidney,” he says.

The coliseum explodes.

\------

There is little peace in an imperator’s life, but Evgeni thus far has always found solace in his bathing chambers. Spacious and well-appointed-- a full private bath, from frigidarium to caldarium-- it is his retreat from court. Today, he lounges in the tepidarium, small enough that his fingers brush the walls to either side of him should he stretch, and his toes the opposite, but it’s perfectly warm and opulent, a balm against his tired soul.

Thus, it is perfectly natural that he emits a small scream when someone storms into the tepidarium. “I am _busy_ ,” Evgeni snaps, resisting the urge to cover himself in his surprise, instead forcing himself to unfold into a comfortable sprawl.

“You are _stupid_ ,” Sidney snaps. He looks ready for a fight; his color is high-- and it certainly isn’t the tepidarium’s doing, as he only just arrived-- and his eyes shimmer above a furiously twisted mouth.

“Please, educate _me_ , the imperator of the greatest empire under the gods, on how I am stupid,” Evgeni returns. He knows there is power in remaining calm while others are not, but there is something about Sidney that reaches deep inside and twists him up, until he cannot resist being petty and combative in turn.

“The greatest empire under the gods?” Sidney repeats, following it with a sneer. “How so? Nobody trusts you! Your entire court lives in fear, and that is a short-term solution that results in a short-term reign. You have accomplished less and less as time goes on, your senators undermining you at every turn, but because you hear nothing but agreement, you think you are succeeding! And now-- _now_! The wife of a senator came to me today, and she told me she worries that the old gods are coming for us. She said that the campaign has reached the first stronghold of your enemies, and you have ordered for the women and children to be routed, burning all to the ground, scorching the earth until nothing grows. Light the fields and the forests, slaughter the animals to no purpose, cross every sacred boundary the gods have given us!”

“It is no more than they deserve,” Evgeni says flatly. “They have resisted the empire, so they must be shown its might.”

“Just as the senators that resisted you were deposed? Just as the citizens that offended you were executed? Just as the gods that disagreed with you were erased?” Sidney is shouting now, his voice echoing within the tepidarium, bouncing off the walls until the words amplify themselves, cresting on _erased_ as the air goes freezing cold.

“It is the only way to maintain order--” Evgeni says, trying and failing to ignore the shivers that wrack his body. He must curl up against the cold that stabs against his wet skin, though Sidney seems unaffected.

“Order!” Sidney shouts. “Order, no! Your mystique, your ego, your satisfaction, that is all that is being maintained!” He pauses, taking a deep breath as Evgeni watches him warily. When he speaks again, it’s level and quiet, like the first time he spoke to Evgeni in the coliseum. “It is only a matter of time before everyone and everything turns on you. The earth rumbles against you even as your senators whisper, and either one alone could be the undertow that claims you, let alone both together. You saved me from the coliseum to be your high priest, but you do not need religion. You need humility.”

“Then be my humility!” Evgeni shouts, frustrated. “If I do not perform as desired, then show me how I can improve!”

Sidney looks at him, deep and unreadable, and Evgeni realizes the room is warm again, his skin flushed and lungs choking against the heavy air. “Will you listen?” he asks softly.

“Yes,” Evgeni says, stung by the truth in the accusation that lies beneath the question.

“Very well. You must find strength in vulnerability.”

Evgeni snarls instinctively at the thought. “Vulnerability is just weakness to exploit!”

“No!” Sidney shouts again, and frustration crawls in his voice. “Vulnerability is being so strong that you can afford to be a target! Vulnerability is knowing that even if the shot is taken, you will not fall! Vulnerability is knowing that you do not have to terrify your opponents to succeed!”

Evgeni stands, his bones burning with fury as he opens his mouth to answer. The _gall_ of this bestiarius, the sheer impertinence of a man that should have been put to _death--_ The tirade that grows within Evgeni is interrupted by Sidney grasping his hand and pulling. Evgeni fights it, but Sidney’s grip is tight, too tight, tight enough that his hand does not slide on the sweat-and-water slickness on Evgeni’s skin. “What are you _doing--_ ” Evgeni demands, incensed, and yelps as they pass from the tepidarium to the freezing air of the frigidarium, cooled by the well-chilled pool in the center of the room. “Sidney, stop, you cannot--”

“I cannot what?” Sidney challenges, still facing away from Evgeni. His voice snaps tight and angry, his shoulders tense and raised before Evgeni. For a second Evgeni forgets his own nakedness in the face of Sidney’s ire. Admittedly, Sidney’s anger is not entirely unfamiliar to Evgeni, but this is-- _new_ , different, and something stirs deep within Evgeni’s chest in response.

They reach the hall door of Evgeni’s chambers, and Evgeni tries again to dig his heels in. “Sidney, stop! You must let me dress!”

“No; the only thing I _must_ do is what I am doing now,” Sidney says, and he has to stop and turn to face Evgeni to pull them past the threshold.

“Sidney!” Evgeni wails, panicking now, skin bumping with the chill of wet, naked skin, unable to escape, dragged by an unrecognizable person. He thought he had grown to know Sidney, his particular ways about food and worship, his disapproval of Evgeni’s choices but eventual capitulation. Here, though, returns the man who tames lions, and Evgeni is _afraid_.

Sidney’s fury pulls them through the halls and out to the garden that he has claimed to be his own. The sun warms Evgeni’s skin as the breeze cools it, and Evgeni shivers under the dual sensations. A slave is kneeling amongst the plants and weeding, and when he turns to look, his curious glance turns into a slack-jawed stare, followed by an abrupt scurry out of the garden.

“Are you done with this mysterious shaming?” Evgeni asks, but it sounds more wounded than he anticipated. “A slave has witnessed my nudity and your manhandling of me, can we be finished now?”

“We are just beginning,” Sidney says. “And it’s not about shame.”

A lion rises up before them at Sidney’s words, and Evgeni instinctively curls into himself under the gaze, covering his cock with his free hand as he hunches down to become a smaller target. “Sidney!” Evgeni hisses.

Sidney turns to look at him, and his eyes shimmer with the gold of lions. “Stand up straight, Imperator,” he says. Evgeni hears emotion bubbling in the words, but he can’t discern their meaning, as he slowly straightens under the unwavering gaze of the lion. He tries to meet its gaze in return, but his eyes drop almost not of his own will as he begins to hunch again and fights the urge, trapped between two fears he cannot overcome. “Are you weak, for standing naked and unprotected before the lion?” Sidney asks.

“No!” Evgeni snaps, immediate and defensive, and he pauses. As he thinks about it, staring into the eyes of the lion, he repeats, “No, I am strong, not weak.”

“Why?” Sidney urges, and just maybe, Evgeni sees the hint of a smile on Sidney’s face from the corner of his eye.

“Because they could tear me apart,” Evgeni says. “Because I have no defense, except my trust in you. I trust that they will not disobey you, and I trust that you will not order them to attack me.”

“How much do you truly trust me?” Sidney says. “It is easy to speak those words, but hard to show it in actions. I see your hand reach to protect yourself; I see how you make yourself small. Is that trust?”

Evgeni swallows heavily. On a deep, shaky breath, he forces his shoulders back and lifts his chin. On the next breath, he unwinds his spine, straightening to stand to his fullest height, even as his muscles twitch and scream to _run run run away_. He squares his feet and lets his free hand drop to his side, palm pressed lightly against the side of his thigh, the only comfort he will allow himself under Sidney’s obvious challenge. “Is this trust?” Evgeni repeats back, a challenge.

“It is a start,” Sidney says, and it’s approving and a little warm, too much like the grip of his hand on Evgeni’s. “But can you act like it in front of your court, your citizens, your gods? Can you trust in me totally, not to humble you but to open you to vulnerability? Show your senators that you can stand naked before the lions to protect the empire, their lands, their people, their riches. Put the needs of your empire, your people and senators and the earth itself, first. You are all that stands between all of those things and the lions, and you must care about them enough to protect them without armor.”

“Why are you here? Why are you doing this?” Evgeni asks, suddenly tired. If his death waits in the lion’s claws, he is resigned to it. If his future holds this-- vulnerability, this nakedness, he is resigned to it. Maybe he will retire early today; maybe there is no way to salvage this disaster, and he can only retreat and lick his wounds.

“Because I am the tamer of lions,” Sidney says.

It is many months before Evgeni understands.

\------

Evgeni stalks, in high bad humor, through the halls of the palace. He curses every man of the senate in his thoughts; they are intractable, and foolish, and selfish, and and _and_. His feet lead him on a path without his conscious knowledge, and he blinks as he steps out into a garden. The Garden of Humility, as it has been gaudily named by the whispers around the court.

The sun shines golden and warm down on the bright flowers and green leaves, and doubly so does it shine against the glisten of lion fur and dark curls of Sidney’s hair. All three lounge, warriors at rest, the lions stretched out, one watching Evgeni with a familiar gaze, the other stretched and paws twitching in sleep. Sidney is between them, a plate of grapes to his left, face upturned at the sun and eyes closed as he lazily picks a grape from the vine and pops it into his mouth.

“No greater collection of imbeciles has there been as my senate is,” Evgeni announces, more than aware of his petulance but too irritated to withhold it. “Are you absolutely sure I cannot dissolve the senate and dismiss their idiocies from my court forever?”

“I am sure you can attempt, though I suspect you may not long survive the event,” Sidney says lazily. Evgeni collapses to the ground beside Sidney and picks up his nearer hand to hold tight between his own. Sidney’s skin is sun-warmed, perhaps a little sweaty, but his grip against Evgeni’s hand is sure and strong.

“Can you not protect me? No senator would dare cross me with the lions at my back,” Evgeni wheedles.

“I protect you by ensuring you don’t carry out such harebrained plans at all,” Sidney says. “That is better than lions. Tell me of the woes of the senators, so that you can let it go rather than act rashly.”

“They refuse to listen,” Evgeni says, more than willing to gripe to Sidney. “I tell them clearly what must be done and why, and yet they run off in a thousand worse directions. Do they think that I have not considered this, consulted the generals, found the best solution? Instead they walk again on the ground I have already trodden on, to fulfill their own egos. It will be three months before they finish arguing, and the legions will be dead from starvation long before an accord is reached!”

Sidney sighs, a gust of sound. “I know you are frustrated, but trust in them. It is not that they doubt you, it is that they, too, desire the best possible answer for the Empire. Yes--” Sidney says firmly over Evgeni’s attempted protest, and Evgeni falls silent, “They also have their own interests at heart. But you know, clearly, what those are and who is most susceptible to serving themselves before the Empire. Keep a wary eye out, but give them the benefit of good intentions. Can you prepare a summary for tomorrow and present your arguments against whichever other choices they have seen?”

“Yes,” Evgeni says, a little surly. “But why is it my responsibility to do so? Can they not accept my word as it is, that this is the best path forward?”

“I understand that when they do not display trust, you do not wish to extend it,” Sidney says. “But someone must be the first to extend the olive branch. Why not go willingly now, offering peace and knowledge, rather than having your hand forced? I am sure that if you lay out whatever you have discussed outside of the senate, they will not argue amongst themselves as much and move quicker to take action.”

“I despise when you are correct,” Evgeni says, and Sidney smiles a little in response. A comfortable silence falls between them, interrupted only by the swish of a lion’s tail and the buzz of a bee.

“I found some new graffiti today,” Sidney says, apropos of nothing, after the silence has settled comfortably for minutes between them.

Evgeni has grown drowsy under the weight of the sun’s heat. He wakens quickly at that statement; it never bodes well, and he sighs. “Please, tell me the glorious fruits of your labor, for I am sure you searched every wall within the palace and most of the city to find graffiti you have not seen before.”

“I did not have to search so diligently,” Sidney protests, but it sounds a little hollow. “There is one, just outside the palace, and it says, _Imperator Evgeni is a naughty boy_.” His voice curls with relish around the words, and Evgeni chokes. “And in the palace, near the senate chambers, it says _Imperator, take off your tunic, please, and show us your hairy privates._ ” He howls with laughter at that, his hand pulling free of Evgeni’s as he curls around his mirth, and Evgeni’s feeble protests cannot get him to stop. When Sidney catches his breath, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes with the force of his mirth, he says, “And yet there are more! _I would not sell my husband for all the gold in the world, but I might to see the Imperator’s hairy ass._ Do you have a hairy ass, Evgeni?”

“You are far more intimately familiar with my ass than I am,” Evgeni says. “Is my humiliation complete, or will you continue until I fall ill?”

“You are not humiliated by the gossip of the masses, but bolstered,” Sidney dismisses, lounging back upon the ground and closing his eyes. “Do not tell me that you are not secretly pleased by the speculations on your sexual prowess.”

“You have not mentioned any such speculations,” Evgeni protests.

“Oh? I’m sorry, how quickly I have forgotten. There is one I found-- _Imperator, please perform oral sex on me against the city wall like a dog._ ”

Evgeni gapes at Sidney even as he feels his face flush at the thought. He is no prude, but the perspective is brutal; to have such things written about him rather than being simply amusing statements about strangers-- “Where did you _find_ that?”

“On the wall outside the palace, where I wrote it,” Sidney says. He opens his eyes, shimmering slits above the smallest curve of a smile, and Evgeni’s heart lurches.

“And yet I am accused of being the naughty boy,” Evgeni says, a little breathless.

Sidney’s smile grows wider and wickeder. “I have no doubt that you could prove your naughtiness, if you so choose to indulge my request.”

“Why should I? What do I have to gain, should I pin you against the wall there? Do great secrets rest in your cock, and I must suckle them forth?” Evgeni pushes, because he is not a man who can let well enough alone.

“You ask me this as if you have not had many ill-gotten gains from my body,” Sidney says, what could be a firm rebuke softened by the heat in his voice. “And yet you protest now, like a blushing virgin. Where is the conquering imperator? Has he been too thoroughly tamed?”

That is a challenge too great for Evgeni to resist; he gathers himself and pounces, settling heavily over Sidney’s body, pliant and warm. “The conquering imperator has not left; will you force me to conquer you again and again, instead of gracefully accepting your defeat?”

Sidney looks thoughtfully up at him, eyes squinting shut as his lips purse consideringly. “Well, I cannot let you grow soft and merciful, it’s a waste of my work.”

“Soft?” Evgeni snarls, dipping down to take Sidney’s mouth in a rough kiss, nipping and claiming. “Merciful?” he adds, breaking away. “You will wish for mercy, by the end.”

Sidney hums noncommittally. “I am sure that you can do better,” he says, a quiet challenge. “Regardless, I believe I gave you a command, Imperator.”

“A command?” Evgeni asks. “What command can any mere citizen of this empire give to me?”

“I can take you to where it is written, if you doubt its permanence. _Imperator, please perform oral sex on me against the city wall like a dog._ ”

Evgeni smiles, cocky and sure, down at Sidney. “Command? No; you beg for relief, and are unable to admit it. I will grant your wish, but I will ensure that you continue to beg until you can no longer speak, to remind you of your own humility.”

“You are welcome to begin at any time. Boasts do nothing but bore me.” Sidney makes a show of yawning, canines flashing, and Evgeni growls. Evgeni manhandles Sidney up-- Sidney emitting an undignified squeak-- and throws Sidney over his shoulder. He looks around the garden and gives a small crow of victory as he spots the far wall, still lit by the sun and assumably equally as warm. Sidney protests weakly, half-heartedly drumming his knees against Evgeni’s stomach and hands against Evgeni’s low back, but Evgeni pays him no mind as he walks ponderously over to the wall.

Evgeni dumps Sidney onto his feet, trapping him against the wall with a cage of his arms and body. “Here is a wall,” he says. “And yet-- where is your relief? Trapped behind your rudeness. Tell me how deeply you wish for me to kiss you in every forbidden place, and perhaps I will consider slaking your thirst.”

Sidney’s chin lifts proudly. It will be a battle of wills today, and Evgeni’s blood sets to fire at the challenge. “I have shown you no rudeness, just the firm hand that you require for guidance,” Sidney says. “I could wait a thousand years, my patience is so great. Can your cock wait so long? Or will you cave quickly, so lustful and uncontrolled at the sight of me before you?”

“Surely, you are a sight to stir the passions of many men,” Evgeni says, leaning back to examine Sidney. His hair is dishevelled from hanging upside-down, his toga equally askew. His cheeks flush bright and his eyes twinkle as he licks at his plump lips. Evgeni mirrors the action, thinks about the velvet feel of Sidney’s cock on his tongue. Evgeni slips his hand down to rest on the gentle swell of Sidney’s thigh, fingers teasing at the soft skin leading up to his cock. Sidney takes a deep breath, and his toga begins to betray the shape of Sidney’s interest beneath it. “But-- you have taught me not to take haste. So I shall not.” Evgeni pauses, drawing out a breath, and Sidney shifts impatiently, sliding Evgeni’s hand deeper in the sweet space between his thighs. “Do you recall the first time we laid together? I tasted every inch of your skin, and my tongue has not forgotten one second of it. The sweet sweat upon your chest, the musk beneath your arms drew me in. But at your cock and ass is held the flavor I shall never have enough of: your manhood brought to life so that I could drink as the finest wine.” Evgeni pushes another step closer to Sidney, their bodies nearly flush, slipping his left hand a little further to curve entirely around the side of Sidney’s left thigh, the other hand sliding to rest on Sidney’s nipple, teasing until he gasps.

“Evgeni--” Sidney says, clearly trying to take control back, but he hiccups again as Evgeni tweaks his nipple more firmly. “If you do desire it, why do you not take it?”

“Did you not teach me the value of agreement?” Evgeni asks softly. “You told me-- do not force the senators to your path, but lead them gently as a lamb towards a solution until they think it was their idea to begin with. So I also lead you gently, until you admit your desires and ask me to fulfill them for us both.”

“Damn you,” Sidney explodes, voice shaking. “This is no time to tease! Go to your knees and suck my cock or lick my ass, I care not! Just bring me relief!”

“I have barely begun,” Evgeni says. “Why are you so eager? Have you been lying in wait since you wrote your graffito, imagining what I would do to you?” Sidney’s blush and averted gaze says it all, and Evgeni says, delighted, “Ah, I have found the truth! How many hours have you let your desires simmer, waiting for me to seek you out, waiting for your chance to tell me of your indiscretions?”

“Long enough,” Sidney snaps. “Did I not tell you to get on with it?”

Evgeni sighs. “And yet, you do not seem to need it so badly, for I have not heard a single appeal from your lips.”

“I plead of you, get on with it,” Sidney says between gritted teeth. Evgeni tuts, and Sidney sighs explosively before half-shouting, “I beg of you, stop this foolishness and go to your knees!”

“I suppose that will do,” Evgeni says, sinking down and tugging Sidney’s toga with him until it pools at Sidney’s feet, a fine protector for his knees. Evgeni sticks his head up Sidney’s tunic to deftly unwind his loincloth. Beneath lies the treasure, and Evgeni leans forward without hesitation and swallows Sidney’s cock down.

There is a strange pleasure in such a debasing act, the scent and tastes of Sidney mingling in Evgeni’s senses until he drowns in it. He has learned by now where to stop before he chokes, how to rub the dripping head of Sidney’s cock against his inner cheek until Sidney gasps. How to curl his tongue and suck until Sidney cries out. How to rest his hands against the rich curve of Sidney’s thighs and feel the tremble in them.

Evgeni pulls off with a slick noise as Sidney’s grunts take on a desperate, whining edge. He hasn’t had all of his fun yet, and he ignores Sidney’s indignant “Evgeni! Stop-- go-- don’t tease!” in favor of kissing up and down the breadth of Sidney’s thighs. Much to Sidney’s dismay, he remains as obsessed with them as the first night they partook of each others’ bodies, and he takes his time luxuriating in the strength that lies beneath the beauty.

He can’t spend too long there, though; the rich musk of sex draws him back in towards Sidney’s dick. It’s still a little slick from Evgeni’s mouth, and he dips his tongue out to caress the tip as he thinks. Sidney squeaks and twitches, inadvertently slapping his cock against Evgeni’s nose, and Evgeni gives him a light pinch on the back of his thigh as reprimand. The way Evgeni’s arm wraps around Sidney’s leg gives him an idea, and he taps impatiently at it. “Lift up your leg,” Evgeni instructs.

“Why should I?” Sidney complains. “You don’t give me relief _and_ you make me stand on one leg? This is not as at all what we-- ah!”

Evgeni tugs Sidney’s leg up regardless and settles it over his shoulder. Sidney, in petty revenge, leans heavily on it, but it’s still no great weight compared to carrying the Empire, so he endures. Now, with Sidney’s legs spread further, the true prize awaits Evgeni’s mouth. But first, he smoothes his fingers over the generous curve of Sidney’s ass. He must show proper appreciation, after all. Sidney grunts, and Evgeni obeys the unspoken command, curving his fingers lower and spreading them until there is space enough for him to lean forward and softly kiss the quivering shape of Sidney’s hole.

Perhaps on a different day, Evgeni could linger, taunt Sidney until he cries fat tears of frustration and pleasure. But today, all he can think of is graffiti: _Imperator, please perform oral sex on me against the city wall like a dog_. His blood thrills at the thought of Sidney, scratching at a wall, sneaking shameful glances left and right as he implores Evgeni in a place that all will see his desire. Did he blush as citizens passed by, their curious gazes drifting over his hands as he studiously carved the curves and lines of _oral sex_? Did he stand back to survey his work with pride when he finished, or turn his head down and retreat, pride mingling with sudden shame? Did he return to the garden and pleasure himself, so obsessed with the thoughts of his filthy deed that he was unable to wait for release until he told Evgeni?

So-- Evgeni does not linger. Quickly he moves to broad, wet kisses across Sidney’s hole, pressing one after another on soft, secret skin until he feels Sidney’s body go slack over him. An image hovers in his mind, too provocative to keep to himself, and he pulls back, replacing his mouth with his thumb, massaging gently at Sidney’s hole without entering as he says, “Sidney.”

“What?” Sidney says, and it’s a mix of breathless and irritated and pleased.

“Can you imagine--” Evgeni swallows against the lump in his throat. He shifts, but there’s nothing for his aching cock to press against. “Imagine, what if we are not here? What if we go out into the city, underneath your graffito, and show the entire city your wish being fulfilled?”

“Gods be damned,” Sidney curses. His weight rests even heavier on Evgeni, his knees no longer functional, and Evgeni gives in to his desire and whines along with Sidney.

“Any citizen that desired could stand and watch,” Evgeni whispers, leaning in so his breath dances across Sidney’s hole. Sidney shudders and cries out at the lick Evgeni gives him. “Do you think they would rate our performance? Shout suggestions? Make bets on how long before I made you orgasm, how long before you were pleading for a second? Would it become an orgy in the streets, debauchery and pleasure in every corner, led by us?”

“Fuck-- _fuck_ ,” Sidney says.

Evgeni takes it for the command it is, pushing at Sidney’s hole with his thumb until it slips in to the first knuckle, Sidney shuddering around him at the rough slide. He dips it in and out as he continues in a low voice, “But do not worry-- no hand but mine would touch you, no pleasure but ours would exist between us. I would pleasure you until the skin upon my face is raw, until I cannot speak, until there is no doubt that the only person upon this earth that I will take like a dog, in the middle of the city or in this garden, is you.”

Sidney’s hole flutters around Evgeni’s thumb, his cock bouncing. He’s beyond words, attempting to speak and failing each time on a moan. Evgeni is subsumed by his desire; he licks around his thumb until Sidney has opened softly for him, until he can fit his thumb up to the base and his tongue beside it. The noises he makes are obscene, as if he dines at the finest table-- and indeed, Evgeni would take this over any court feast. Only when Sidney is panting and twisting, desperation in every muscle, does Evgeni take Sidney’s cock into his mouth again.

When Sidney comes, Evgeni savors the taste of his pleasure. Once dreaded, it now excites him, a tangible reminder of what he has brought to Sidney. Once Sidney’s cock is empty, Evgeni takes to his feet, pressing up to take a kiss from Sidney, lax and pink-cheeked against the wall.

“This is only going to add to the graffiti, you know,” Sidney murmurs when Evgeni breaks for a breath, palming at his cock.

“Let it,” Evgeni says, half a snarl. “Let my city gossip about my virility, as long as only you take it.”

“Only me,” Sidney assures him. Sidney’s hands slide to Evgeni’s belt, but Evgeni bats them away impatiently, throwing his toga to the ground and hitching the hem of his tunic up into his belt. Sidney helps him with his loincloth, and his palm wraps with sweet relief around Evgeni’s cock. The rhythm is slow and lazy, his contentment too much of a tease for Evgeni.

Sidney sees it, like he sees everything about Evgeni, with clearest eyes. He straightens himself, tucking his thighs together, and Evgeni dives forward gratefully. His forehead drops onto the smooth curve at the top of Sidney’s shoulders as his hips work frantically. Evgeni snatches at the sheer luxury of frotting between Sidney’s legs as Sidney’s head rolls easy on his neck to bump against Evgeni’s head, thick _mm_ s reverberating in his chest like a purr of satisfaction.

Evgeni could live in this moment forever. The hot sun against his back, cool wall underneath his palms. Sidney, content and relaxed, power gone soft and pliant underneath him. The pleasure that courses through his body, compounded by Sidney’s encouragement. He comes with a groan and starry explosions behind his closed eyelids, and Sidney helps him sag to the ground. They settle with Evgeni half-curled in Sidney’s lap and Sidney’s arms draped around Evgeni’s waist.

When he is close to Sidney like this, Evgeni’s senses open to more than just the heat of the afternoon sun or the smell of sex on the air. He can hear the hum of happiness in the earth around him for miles, flourishing under his empire’s care. He can feel the currents of his court, the strong waves of collective action interrupted by eddy pools of discontent, soon to be confronted and solved. Where once he was blinded by his own ego and fear, now he opens to those around him. Sidney shines brightest in Evgeni’s mind, a gold and hazel fire, something wild and untamable that chose to tame itself for Evgeni.

 

 

 

For five and twenty years, Evgeni was boy, man, and imperator without Sidney, wild and untamed.

For the next five and twenty-- and more-- Evgeni will be tamed as long as Sidney is by his side.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://itsacoup.tumblr.com)!


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